


The Killer Dad

by Aouregan



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Character Study, Gen, Mystery, grisly crime scene imagery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 16:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4842725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aouregan/pseuds/Aouregan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the call comes in that a man returned home to find his wife and daughter missing and a trail of blood throughout the house, the CSI team wastes no time in getting to the scene. However, there is more to the story than what first meets the eye, and the quick mobility of Miami's FBI office is warning enough that things are not at all what they seem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> The Killer Dad is a story that has been with me since I first began my writing career on FFN. During the six years that I've had my account on that site, the Killer Dad was published twice and had been removed for rewrites both times. This time the story is here to stay, and in the eight months that I've had it published once more, I've been working my way through each and every chapter.
> 
> Just a small note in timeline: The storyline officially begins in 2005 but is an ongoing case for three years. As a consequence of the lengthy period, there will be many spoilers to future stories hidden in the bulk of the story itself. On one last note, I have decided to make minor changes regarding canon, but they are smaller changes that I wish to explore as the story progresses.

_Prologue_

* * *

The man that sat across from Horatio Caine was stone-faced and cold as he faced the investigators in the room. Even his brown eyes had the same uncaring, distant look that had transformed his face into a statue. At first the change had been disconcerting despite the fact that he had been expecting it to come, but the moment of surprise had passed and in its place, a cold, quiet anger.

“You can cut the crap, Mister Jorgenson,” Horatio said coldly, his eyes were upon the man in front of him with such intensity that the latter was forced to look away. “We both know what happened in that house on February sixteenth, two thousand and five.”

“That was the day that I called the police to say that my beloved wife and daughter were missing.” The suspect’s smirk had widened, almost as though he were amused by the memory of that day. “If memory serves me correct, there was a lot of blood in the house that day.”

“You killed your wife and daughter that day and disposed of them as though they were trash.” Horatio willed himself to remain calm, though he felt as though he were about to burst with the rage he felt boiling within him. “It must have been such a big thrill to you, Mister Jorgenson, to kill two people who couldn’t even fight back. You are nothing but a cold-blooded coward...”

The suspect’s smirk had vanished, replaced by a sneer that made Horatio want to jump over the table to wipe it off by force. With great difficulty, he restrained himself and instead decided to remain silent and gaze upon the man intently.

“I am not a coward, Lieutenant Caine,” The man hissed in a dangerous voice, leaning forward over the table as much as his restraints allowed him. “If you think that I killed them, then why don’t you provide proof that I did?”

Horatio smiled in response. There was a threat concealed in both his smile and his light blue eyes, one that promised that the man would get exactly what he deserved in the end. He leaned forward until he was inches away from the man’s emotionless face, almost as though he were a cobra ready to strike, his eyes unblinking and full of hate. For a few seconds he remained in that position, his gaze was unrelenting as they bore directly into the brown eyes in front of him.

“That is exactly what I intend to do,” Horatio said softly, so that only the suspect could hear him. The FBI agent that stood in the corner of the room shifted her position, but did nothing other than throw a threatening look in his direction. He ignored her as he regarded the piece of filth before him, “it will only be a matter of time before what I really want will surface, Mister Jorgenson, and when it does, I will send you right where you truly belong.”

He drew away from the man and stood to his feet. He regarded the man in front of him with a look that he reserved for the worst of the monsters that he dealt with, before he turned on the spot and went to the door. Only when the door was unlocked and opened from the outside, did Horatio chance a look behind him at the man who he knew to be a terrifying bogeyman in disguise.

The man sat with his hands covering his face. The statue had finally cracked.

* * *

 

Chapter One

* * *

 

February 16, 2005

When the panicked call came in, Horatio had been reading over a lab report that had been sent to him by a DNA analyst just thirty minutes before. As the head of the forensic department, it was his job to ensure that all the reports that landed on his desk had been thoroughly read through and signed before he filed them away within their case files. He stretched as he looked out the window at the sunny day that had minimal clouds and sighed deeply. It had been hours since he had been outside, and even then it had been early in the morning, when the sun was just beginning to appear in the sky.

 _I’ve been at this for hours,_ Horatio thought as he watched a small group of forensic scientists talking amongst themselves in the parking lot below him. They had obviously been on a small break and decided that they would go to the small restaurant that was down the road from the forensic building. All five of them carried large Styrofoam boxes and large cups that had krazy straws looping out of them in wild designs. His stomach rumbled loudly as he watched the group of scientists go to the double doors and disappear inside the spacious lobby down below. _Maybe I will step outside and get a bite to eat before I continue on with the rest of this pile._

Before he could move an inch however, the phone on his desk began to ring shrilly. He cursed silently for a moment as he hunted around for the black telephone, before he finally found it hidden behind a large pile of folders.

“Caine,” he answered, fumbling a bit with the hand piece.

“Horatio, we’ve got a problem.” Frank Tripp’s familiar deep voice answered on the other end. Horatio frowned when he heard the detective’s tone, and grew suddenly worried.

“What is it, Frank?”

“We’ve got a case in Coconut Grove. A young mother and her two year old daughter have gone missing. The father called it in twenty minutes ago.”

There was something in Frank’s voice that had Horatio on edge, but whatever it was, couldn’t be placed. He knew that right now, Tripp was at the scene and that whatever it was that troubled the detective would soon be known. There was a short pause on the other end of the phone, in which he was certain that he could hear Frank take deep breaths to calm himself.

“There’s a lot of red here, Horatio.” Frank warned him. It was unusual for the detective to warn him of a scene before he arrived, and it caught his attention immediately.

“How much blood are we talking about?” Horatio asked as he quickly stood to his feet and grabbed for his CSI kit that stood on a rickety old corner table. He felt his heart plummet into his stomach when he thought of the young child that was also involved, and hoped that she would be recovered soon.

The detective blew a puff of air out. Horatio imagined that he was rubbing at the bald spot on his head, a sure sign of anxiety that left him feeling worse. “There’s a lot of it here. It goes from one end of the house to the other. The place is full of it...”

“I am on my way,” Horatio interrupted gently. He knew how these cases affected Frank and didn’t want to cause anymore distress to the detective with his questions. “Can you tell me the address?”

Before Frank could rattle off the address, the door of his office opened and Calleigh Duquesne walked in. She paused in the doorway, her mouth open as though she were about to say something, but when she saw that Horatio was on the phone she clamped up and waited. Horatio noticed immediately that her mouth was drawn in a tight, thin line, her oval face was unusually sharp, and her green eyes were bright. It was obvious that she was upset with something, and Horatio found that her anger seemed to take a life of its own and pulsate around the room.

He heard Frank say something but was unable to catch the words. He nodded to Calleigh who raised her eyebrows at him, but stepped out of the room without a word. Horatio could see her standing just outside the door, her back against the wall, and her arms crossed over her chest. He knew that the moment that he put down the phone and joined her, that he would be able to know what was going on in her mind.

“I am sorry, Frank.” Horatio grabbed for a small piece of paper that he caught sight of on his desk and picked up a black pen. “Can you repeat what you said?”

The detective repeated himself. Horatio could hear the question in his voice but ignored it. The moment that he had written down the address and assured Frank that he would be there shortly with his team, he hung up. For a moment, he stood in his office with his back facing the window, deep in thought. He felt troubled by something that Frank had said over the phone, or perhaps it was what the detective refused to say that left him the most worried. Something felt off to him as he grabbed for his kit and walked out of his office, though for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was.

As he contemplated all the things that Frank had told him over the phone, he remembered that it wasn’t so much what he said that was bothering him but how the detective had worded it. It was almost as though Tripp had spoken his words carefully, as though there was something that was troubling him but he couldn’t say exactly what it was. It was almost as though there was somebody there that was making sure that the detective was saying the right thing over the phone, and it was this realisation that made Horatio uneasy.

He found Calleigh outside the door, clicking her tongue impatiently and looking down the hallway towards the labs. He found her behaviour unusual, and as he took in her crossed arms and the way that her eyes had hardened when they caught sight of him, he knew that something was up.

Calleigh lost no time in speaking her mind. “They brought in the Feds, Horatio. A missing child is involved and according to the law...”

“The FBI must get involved in the case of a missing child,” Horatio finished tonelessly. However, he felt suddenly disturbed by the quickness of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. His pace suddenly quickened as he headed towards the elevator, Calleigh was by his side.

Calleigh reached the elevator first and pressed the button. She looked impatient as they stood in silence beside the door, and constantly looked to the right where the thick cream coloured door to the staircase stood.

“Eric and Ryan are already on their way,” she said as she heard the soft ping from the elevator ring out in the stillness of the lab foyer. “The moment that the call came back that there was a possible homicide that took place at the house and the murder squad left; the two of them followed. They are waiting for us at the house.”

Horatio frowned at this but chose to remain silent. The elevator door finally opened and a stream of people streamed out of it. He caught sight of a DNA analyst wearing her lab coat; in her gloved hands she carried a large case box. For a moment the two stared at each other, before the analyst’s face flushed a bright red.

“I am going to change into another lab coat and get new gloves.” He heard her say in a small voice. Beside him, Calleigh shook her head, her eyes upon the analyst who hurried away from them into the biology department.

“You would think that she would know to remove her coat and gloves before she left the lab,” Calleigh muttered to herself, her eyes narrowed as she watched the thick door swing shut behind the scientist.

The moment that the elevator emptied, Horatio quickly hopped onto it and patiently waited for Calleigh to join him. All the way down to the first level of the forensic building, Calleigh grumbled about incompetent scientists and how misconduct of the lab often led to cases being thrown out in the court of law.

By the time that they had reached the double doors leading out of the building, Calleigh had returned to her usual cheerful self. She fixed Horatio with a wide smile and twinkling eyes as the warmth of the early afternoon washed over them. Her cheerfulness was infectious, and soon he felt a smile tug at his own lips as the sun beat down upon them.

“I hope you don’t mind if we take my vehicle to the crime scene,” she said happily, as the two of them made their way to the parking lot where a group of Hummers stood waiting. “I decided to wait for you, and have my kit inside the vehicle already.”

She caught sight of Horatio’s look and quickly held up her keys. “It’s locked inside the vehicle and well hidden from view.”

Horatio nodded in response. His Hummer had been brought to the shop for some much needed repairs, and while he did have a replacement vehicle, he preferred to have his own to drive. Calleigh led him to the second to last Hummer and unlocked the doors with the press of a button, she got into the vehicle and moved a large grey box from the seat before he even had a chance to open the door. The moment that he jumped into his seat and shut the door, Calleigh already had put the key into the ignition and had begun to pull out of the parking lot.

* * *

 

It took them far longer to reach Coconut Grove than usual due to traffic at a construction site. Even with Calleigh’s lights and siren on, it took them eighteen minutes to get out and take a back route to the wealthy neighbourhood. By the time that they had arrived to the crime scene, Calleigh’s cheerful mood had deteriorated and had been replaced by an unnatural irritability. Horatio wasn’t the only one to feel its affects. By the time that Eric and Ryan caught sight of them and had arrived at the driver’s side door, both had quieted down and were looking wary.

Horatio opened the door and gladly hopped out, pausing long enough to grab his kit before he gently closed the door. Calleigh followed his example, and by the time that he was on the driver’s side of the vehicle, she had closed the door and was peering up at the house that was surrounded by crime scene tape, police officers and three people in black suits.

“This is an affluent neighbourhood,” Calleigh said, her eyes moved from the house in front of her to the others that surrounded it. “Do we know if anybody in the immediate area seen or heard anything?”

“I have my guys checking that out.” Frank had approached them out of nowhere. Horatio was surprised to see that the detective looked rather flustered, a scowl appeared on his face as he looked over at the house, then back at the CSIs before him. “Horatio, the FBI arrived a few minutes before you showed up. The agent in charge is on the doorstep- calls herself Natalie Greenfield.”

Horatio noticed Eric and Ryan share a dark significant look before they looked over to where Frank had pointed them. Calleigh didn’t appear to care, though her mouth had tightened and her eyes hardened as she shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun and glanced over the hood of the Hummer in the direction of the house.

He inclined his head to show Frank that he had heard him, before he placed his hands on his hips. He wasn’t impressed that the FBI had showed up so early in the investigation, but at the same time he found that he was curious enough to question why they showed up before they knew that this was indeed a missing child case. It was unnatural to say the least, but he chose not to make any comments on it at the moment.

“Do you know what we’ve got?” He asked instead.

Frank took a moment to compose himself before he took out a small notebook from a suit pocket, opened it to a page and looked back up. “According to Mister Paul Jorgenson, his wife Marissa and their two year old daughter Valerie have vanished. He had decided to stop by the house when he couldn’t reach his wife and made the discoveries that not only were they gone, but there was a great deal of blood. At ten past eleven he left his place of work to make the thirty minute drive back home, and at twelve fifteen called the police.”

Horatio frowned as he listened to what Frank had to say, but as the burly detective continued on, the frown deepened. “Frank, that doesn’t make any sense. If this man left work at eleven ten, that leaves a wide window of time before he called in to the police.”

“That’s not all that doesn’t make sense.” Frank put away his notebook and crossed his arms. He gave Horatio an intent look before he stepped towards him. Eric and Ryan moved in closer towards Calleigh so that they could hear what Tripp had to say. “I don’t know, Horatio. The way this man tells his story makes me stand on edge. There is something about it that doesn’t ring true to me, and I don’t think that the FBI believes him either. As a matter of fact, the Feds just being here makes me suspicious that there is something more to this story.”

Horatio was just about to respond but before he could say anything, a loud shout from the property that had become a crime scene grabbed his attention. The owner of the voice was a tall brunette with an FBI bullet proof vest pulled over her dark t-shirt; she was marching across the lawn towards them.

“We’ve waited for you to get here,” she snarled before she even reached the sidewalk. “You should be inside that house searching for evidence instead of standing outside chatting like you’re at a café in Paris.”

Eric opened his mouth to speak but quickly shut it when Horatio glanced at him warningly. Special Agent Natalie Greenfield was not a woman to be trifled with, and though he found her to be professional in her career as an FBI agent, he didn’t find her pushy and sometimes arrogant behaviour at all appealing to work with.

Nonetheless, Horatio politely inclined his head towards her as she stepped down onto the road and stopped in front of the Hummer. “It’s nice to see you again, Agent Greenfield.”

She ignored his attempt of exchanging pleasantries and instead focused on the members of his team. She first turned her attention to Calleigh who was trying her best to keep herself from showing any emotion. “I should expect that you should be able to find a weapon in that house. It has been proven that despite the fact that murderers that try to destroy evidence by washing things are unable to get rid of all the blood, after all.”

Calleigh nodded stiffly and moved towards the house, her face was unreadable. Horatio put a hand on her arm to stop her. He gazed calmly at the FBI agent in front of him, though there was a hint of coolness in the look that he gave to her. He frowned at her before releasing Calleigh’s arm.

“Correct me if I am mistaken, Agent Greenfield, but I believe that when it comes to my team, that I am the one who gives the orders.”

“Of course you are,” Greenfield responded without missing a beat. “It’s just I want this over with today, _Lieutenant_ Caine.”

Horatio’s eyebrows rose at the emphasis on the word ‘lieutenant’, but chose to ignore it as he turned to Eric and Ryan. Both had been gazing at the FBI agent in a state of contemptuous disbelief, and had been muttering amongst themselves the entire time. They quieted at once when they realised that Horatio had turned to them. Ryan fidgeted slightly, looking uncomfortable in his brand new dark suit; his eyes were downcast as they studied his black shoes. Eric stood with his arms crossed over his chest; his face was impassive as he regarded the FBI agent who still stood in front of the vehicle.

“Eric, I want you to have a look around the outside of the house and property. Look for any evidence of a break in and collect anything that catches your attention or appears off to you.” Horatio turned to Ryan. “Mister Wolfe, I want you to be in the house documenting bloodstains and taking samples. Unfortunately we are short staffed today and are unable to have a DNA analyst with us on the scene. Remember gentlemen; take as many pictures as you can of the scene. I don’t want our case to be thrown out in a court of law due to lack of sufficient evidence in way of photographs.” Horatio didn’t add anything else to what he said, but everybody heard the unspoken words of _‘if it comes to that’_ as clearly as if he had actually said them.

Eric and Ryan nodded to him jerkily before they both headed off to do their jobs. Eric paused long enough to pat Horatio on the back and to say a belated hello before he walked past Natalie Greenfield in an unusually stiff fashion. For a moment Horatio watched the two CSIs as they spoke in hushed voices across the lawn before they promptly separated. By the time that he spoke again, Ryan had disappeared through the front door, and Eric had decided to begin his investigation at the front of the house.

He caught sight of the federal agent’s face before he had opened his mouth to speak to Calleigh. It was a mixed look of general aloofness and superiority, with a touch of contempt. Horatio ignored her and focused his attention instead on the petite blonde in front of him.

“Calleigh, I want you to go in the house and see if you can find a weapon that may have been used. According to reports, there’s a lot of blood in there.”

Calleigh nodded her head and offered him a small smile before she turned and slowly made her way to the house. When she had stepped onto the doorstep of the house, Horatio saw her hesitate as she looked around before she too vanished from sight.

There was an awkward silence as Horatio and Frank Tripp stared at each other. However the silence was quickly broken by Natalie Greenfield who had finally walked out from the front of the Hummer to stand beside the homicide detective. There was a moment when Frank had opened his mouth to say something but had quickly shut it when he found that the federal agent was still there.

“Thank you for not asking too many questions, detective.”

“Pleasures mine,” Frank answered stiffly. “Listen Horatio, I’ve got to get back to doing door-to-door canvassing. A neighbourhood such as this, there’s bound to be somebody out there that knows something about this family.”

Horatio didn’t miss the way that Frank’s voice had grown sombre as he said the last part of his sentence. It was strange that the detective seemed to think that the husband had something to do with the disappearances of his wife and daughter so early in the investigation, but didn’t say one word to him about it. He just nodded as Tripp turned away from them and walked away down the street.

Natalie Greenfield watched him silently for a few moments before turning back to Horatio. “He seems professional enough not to make rash decisions before the evidence supports his theory.”

Horatio nodded his head absently as he began to go towards the crime scene. Much to his annoyance, Natalie hurried after him.

“Speaking of acting without evidence,” Horatio said as he stepped up on the sidewalk. “Why is it that the FBI decided to get involved before local law enforcement had sufficient evidence that a child is truly involved in this case?”

For a moment Natalie was silent as she contemplated how to answer his question. Horatio could almost see the cogs turning in her head as she considered how much information he was entitled to know.

“Paul Jorgenson has been on our radar for quite some time,” she finally answered as they walked towards the house together. “The FBI office in Washington notified us that a potential threat was moving to Florida. We’ve had the house watched for quite some time.”

Horatio looked at her in surprise. “What do you mean by ‘potential threat’?”

“Let’s just say that he makes the Marquis de Sade look tame.” Natalie’s mouth was drawn in a grim line as she looked towards a squad car that had the outline of a man sitting within its back seat. “Five young women went missing after they responded to job ads that Jorgenson had put in the newspaper. All except for one have been found discarded like trash in ditches. I think that you can draw your own conclusions based on the information that I have just told you.”

For a few minutes Horatio remained silent as he digested the news that had just been provided to him. Despite the fact that there was now an answer to his question out in the open, he found himself still baffled by yet even more questions.

“How come the local police department doesn’t...”

“They know, Lieutenant. They just prefer to have it hidden until there is more proof that Jorgenson actually committed a crime.”

“They need more proof? What about the bodies?” Horatio was suddenly outraged. “How much proof do they need before they make this public?”

They stopped before they reached the front stoop of the house. Natalie looked suddenly anxious. Horatio felt uneasy as the agent looked about her.

“Look Horatio,” she said her voice so low that Horatio had to incline his head to hear what she had to say. “The Washington office doesn’t have enough evidence to make charges stick. Yes, the bodies of these young women were found, but other than that, they’ve got nothing. It isn’t exactly a federal offence to pick up your family and move States. Especially if there is no evidence that you did anything wrong.”

He puffed out air in frustration. Natalie was regaining back her usual brisk and snappish manner, though she still looked apprehensive. The time to get answers to his questions was rapidly nearing its end.

“Please tell me that through all those hours of surveillance that you’ve got something more to pin on this man,” Horatio said grimly. “You know that we can’t legally hold him until we’ve got evidence that he was directly responsible for the disappearance of his family.”

Natalie cocked an eyebrow, a strange expression upon her face. She regarded Horatio with her dark brown eyes before she sighed and began to pull away from him. “This man is as slippery as a fish, Lieutenant Caine. Please make sure that you don’t mess things up for our investigation. One slip up from your lab and our case against this man will be thrown out right in front of us.”

For a few seconds, Natalie glared at him before she turned and disappeared into the house. Horatio was left with far more questions than answers, and the feeling that there was something more to the case than what the FBI agent had told him. He shook his head as he gazed back at the squad car that contained the man that the FBI suspected to be a serial killer, before he collected himself and finally walked into the crime scene.

* * *

 

The amount of blood throughout the house was alarming. The moment that Horatio walked inside he had nearly stepped on the wide trail of red that led into the garage. He shook himself before he decided to step over the blood trail and follow it to its source.

As Horatio carefully wound his way through the crime scene, he was struck by just how much wealth the Jorgensons had before the call came in to police that afternoon. The mansion was smaller than its neighbours, but that didn’t make it any less grandiose and majestic. Before he touched anything, he put on a pair of gloves as he followed the bright red tracks that led up a sweeping staircase to the top floor.

His shoes squeaked on the shiny hardwood, making him jump. From the looks of the dramatic whorls and streaks of the wood, Horatio guessed that the floor was once a beech tree. Before he went up the stairs, he looked around at the room he was in with the same intent look that he gave when he studied a suspect.

 _A house can say a lot about the people that live in it,_ Horatio thought to himself as he gazed about him. _It helps to understand individuals far better than talking to them will._

The spacious room that he was in now appeared to function as both an entrance and a sitting room, with six doors that all led into what Horatio assumed were large and well furnished rooms. The walls around him were devoid of any pictures and paintings, though the room contained a wide variety of potted plants that seemed to compensate the emptiness of the room. Near the staircase was an expensive looking furniture set that immediately reminded him of the style that was favoured by French monarch Louis XV. Two high-backed chairs with matching designs of what appeared to be leaves from a fern like tree sat opposite each other across a soft black rug. They had small arm holders with curved legs and a rectangular look to them. In between the two chairs sat a coffee table that had an ornate tea set sitting upon it, and a magazine that appeared as though it were about horses. There were two matching rococo sofas that stood on opposite sides of the table, they were both a soft pastel pink colour and appeared as though they were brand new.

Horatio tore his gaze away from the furniture and instead looked around the rest of the room. It contained an assortment of tables that were pressed against the walls. A mantel clock sat ticking away the minutes upon an oak table near the far wall. With the exception of a rather large bouquet of orange roses that sat upon the floor, nothing was out of place.

The fact that there weren’t any children’s toys present in this room began to bother him. As a matter of fact the absence of any evidence that a child even lived here left Horatio slightly disconcerted. The place seemed too clean despite the blood trail that headed up the stairs.

With one last look around the room, Horatio took a deep shuddering breath and began to climb the winding staircase. He took great care to step away from the trail of blood, and stayed clear of the banister in case it hadn’t been examined yet. The moment when he had reached the top landing, he hesitated, his eyes glued to the floor. The blood trail veered off into the nearest room, and Horatio could see the flash of white light made from a camera emitting inside.

He took a moment to collect himself, taking deep breaths to calm down. However when he looked up again, he felt his heart nearly sink into the pit of his stomach. The room that was furthest from the staircase and whose walls were a light yellow was obviously the child’s room. A large stuffed giraffe that would have towered over the two year old was against the furthest wall along with its companions, a grey elephant and a lion that had a thick tawny coloured mane.

For the first time since he had arrived at the scene, Horatio felt bile rise in his throat. He felt suddenly sick as the thought of the blood trail throughout the house came to his mind. No matter how he tried to remain objective in investigations like this, he couldn’t help but feel heartsick for the loss of a child.


	2. Chapter Two

Horatio discovered early on in his career that it was the cases that dealt with children that affected him the most. He had seen a lot since his first day as a CSI, and not a day went by where he wished that he could close his eyes and never see anything again. There was a small part of him that realised that even if he were blind that he would be haunted by the memory of every case he had worked on. He closed his eyes and leaned against the banister of the staircase, trying with all his might to ease the sudden constriction of his throat so that he could breathe again. The metallic smell of blood was high in the air, mixed in with another much stronger stench that made him feel slightly woozy. There was something off about this smell, and it was this that forced him to focus back on what he was meant to do.

He felt the urge to sink down to his knees and resisted the temptation to follow through with it. There was blood on the staircase and possible evidence that may get destroyed by such actions. There most likely was fingerprint evidence upon the banister that he clutched with one gloved hand as though it were a lifeline that prevented Horatio from succumbing to his feelings. The job of a CSI was to collect evidence from a crime scene and to bring their findings back to the forensic lab for analyses. If he couldn’t gain control of his emotions and become objective, then he needed to be replaced by somebody who could.

_A little girl is missing._ It was this thought that constantly repeated itself in his head that forced Horatio to reopen his eyes. He took a shaky breath as he released the banister, and though his knees shook and he felt the urge to vomit, he took a step forward so that he was off the staircase. He refused to look in the direction of the child’s room, and though he could hear the sound and flash of a camera as it took pictures of the scene, he found that he was far more focused on the room that was off to his left ahead of him.

He took a deep breath as he slowly made his way to stand within the doorway and gazed around him at the room before him.

Ryan Wolfe stood with his back to the door at the foot of a large master bed that was untidily made. The mint cream curtains lay in a jumbled heap upon the floor; the decorative rod that held them had been shoved under the bed. From his position in the doorway, Horatio could see a piece of the rod sticking out from under the bed near Ryan’s feet. Upon the bed was a large pile of clothes, some of which had fallen to the floor to accompany a plastic laundry basket that had been kicked from the bedstead so that it lay upon its side near a door that led into the bathroom. An old ornate Tiffany lamp along with the bedside table had been knocked over. The glass from a beautiful painting had been smashed and smeared with blood.

Horatio frowned as he looked around at the carnage of the room. Ryan who was oblivious to his boss standing behind him began to hum a tune that sounded vaguely familiar to him as he took a few photographs of a spot upon the bed.

“This was where it all happened.” Horatio said quietly. Ryan started violently and nearly dropped his camera. The young man whirled around, his face crimson as he regarded him.

“I didn’t realise that you were behind me, Horatio.” The young CSI returned back to his work, desperate to prove himself worthy to such a high ranking colleague. He nervously bit his lip as he bent over the bedposts and zeroed in on a spot of blood that he had discovered upon the light blue comforter. “There is blood everywhere in this room. I’ve found high velocity blood spatter that goes high up on the walls behind the bed, and there is a pool of it upon the floor on the right side of the...”

“And on the bed?”

Ryan released a puff of air and nodded. He pointed out the spots and spatter to Horatio. “There is a really big spot of blood here on the comforter. There’s also what appears to be a hand smear near the bottom of the blanket on the right side of the bed. I’ve counted at least thirteen areas of blood in this room so far, not including the blood trail that leads out of the room and down the stairs.”

Horatio nodded his head thoughtfully. “You’ve documented this room and took pictures of everything you’ve found?”

Ryan nodded sullenly as he looked around the room. There was something deep within his eyes that caught Horatio’s attention but it was gone before he could place what it exactly was.

“You’re doing a great job, Mister Wolfe. I want you to bag and tag everything that has blood in this room and to bring them back to the lab.”

“What if we can’t find them?” Ryan blurted out suddenly. At Horatio’s look he reddened and appeared sheepish. “I mean, they’re dead aren’t they? The amount of blood throughout the house and this room...” he waved an arm around at the mess that surrounded him. “What will happen if all our hard work doesn’t pay off, Horatio? What if we... what will we do...” he trailed off looking confused and startled at his sudden lack of control.

It took a few minutes for Horatio to think of what to say. He struggled with his own emotions regarding a case and never thought that other members of his team suffered the same way he did. It wasn’t as though he were oblivious to the fact that his team were just as human as he was, but it was the fact that whenever it came to these things that he never knew the right words to say.

“It may look like a lost cause right now,” he said finally. He spoke slowly and carefully, choosing the words that would bring comfort to Ryan and discarding the ones that made him appear aloof. “The countless hours we spend in a crime scene and the lab matter because we are getting closer to the truth. No matter how horrible that truth is. We do what we have to do, Mister Wolfe. We collect and follow the evidence no matter where it leads.”

Ryan nodded his head obviously embarrassed. “I am sorry, Horatio. I don’t know what came over me. It’s the blood I think. It got to me.”

“There are times when things bother me during murder investigations.” Horatio paused and found that he was looking in a different direction. “It’s human nature to want to care. There are times that you can no longer be objective because you want to be human.”

“Do you ever feel like you’ve done all that you could possibly do in your job, but still feel like you did nothing?” Ryan asked his voice barely above a whisper. At Horatio’s look, the young CSI flushed and quickly looked down at the camera in his hand. “I’ve always wanted to be a CSI, but sometimes I feel that despite all of our best efforts, we are unable to bring justice to the victims or their families.”

Horatio held his breath for a second before he released it. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his gloved hand and remained silent for a few seconds more as he tried to find a way to answer Ryan’s question. When he finally thought he had it, he looked the young man straight in the eyes and held onto them.

“Sometimes a job as a CSI is hard because of what we see on a daily basis. We are always used to seeing the evil that humans are capable of.” He paused long enough to think about what he was to say next. His eyes never released their hold upon Ryan’s. “However, it is because of what we do that brings hope to victims and their families. One piece of evidence is just a piece of a puzzle that will always be solved no matter how small the pieces are.”

Ryan nodded his head sadly as he listened to Horatio. When he had finished, the young CSI appeared as though he were struggling to make sense of something but didn’t say anything else. For a long time, the two men stood staring at each other in silence.

“I’ll finish up here before I move onto the rest of the house,” Ryan muttered so softly that Horatio could barely hear him, and had turned his back on him before he had a chance to say something else.

Horatio decided to leave the young man to his work in the bedroom. He had learned early on from working alongside the newest member of his team, that it was always best to leave him alone when he performed his duties as a CSI. There was no use in trying to talk to Ryan when he was in this type of mood, and Horatio knew that if Wolfe really wanted to talk that he would seek him out personally.

He walked back out into the hallway and froze. From one of the rooms he could hear the sound of Natalie’s voice and paused long enough to hear what she was saying.

“... Do we know of any women missing in the Miami area during the time that Jorgenson lived here?”

“I’ll check in the database when we get back to the office.” An unfamiliar male voice answered softly.

“Can’t you check now?”

“I can’t. Not here anyway.”

The two stopped talking the moment they caught sight of Horatio within the doorway of the second bedroom that was diagonal to the room that he just left. The male agent coloured slightly when he noticed him and quickly went back to work dusting the bedroom. Natalie looked as impassive as usual and refused to meet Horatio’s eyes.

He chose to study the room that he had just entered instead. The room was slightly smaller than the large master bedroom that he had just vacated, and had been painted a light peach colour that seemed to grab hold of the light and made the bedroom warm and inviting. A double bed was directly in front of him with a lovely turquoise and white bedspread that had been neatly pulled to every corner of the bed. There was a beautiful pastel pink Louis XV sofa that was pressed up against the one wall directly underneath the large windows overlooking the front garden. Two matching armchairs in the same colour stood directly on either side of the couch facing each other. A handsome armoire with dark wood panelling was on the opposite side of the room from the furniture set, along with a spectacular vanity set that had a set of brushes upon the top.

For a moment Horatio was instantly reminded of Versailles palace with the setup and grandeur of the room. It was a unique sense of style that the master bedroom never seemed to replicate. It made him wonder about how things went on under this roof with two adults who preferred sleeping in two very different rooms. His eyes seemed instantly drawn to a decorative Fleur-de-Lys that adorned the wall above the bed.

“What do you know about the Jorgensons?” Horatio finally asked Natalie who had remained unusually still as he looked around the room.

“Outside of the information that I’ve already told you on Paul Jorgenson?” Natalie asked him, her eyebrows slightly raised. “Nothing at all that can help you. He’s been under surveillance for a few months. We’ve never really focused on his family until now.”

Horatio frowned at her before he sighed. “I find that impossible, Agent Greenfield. You came before you were even called into the scene. Obviously you know something and don’t want to tell me.”

“That is because this is an ongoing investigation...”

“Please cut the crap, Natalie. We’re working on the same side here. Any information that you have may help us solve this case. You are obligated to tell any law enforcement agency what you know now that there may be a crime to solve.”

He watched her puff herself up in indignation but like usual, the FBI agent refused to give anything away. Horatio always felt it frustrating whenever he had to deal with this cold and seemingly aloof woman, but always appreciated her dedication to solving murder investigations. He suspected that the agent’s lack of emotions guaranteed that she remain objective in these cases that left many people in her profession reeling. Her inability to talk to the other members of law enforcement was a puzzle that needed to be solved before they could work as a team.

“Do you remember what happened in the Elizabeth White case a few years ago?” Horatio asked gently. He saw Natalie stiffen and her eyes become narrowed slits.

“Of course I remember what happened in the White case,” she snarled as her eyes flashed dangerously. The male FBI agent was rigid where he was bent over near the bed, a fingerprint brush held delicately between his two fingers and his thumb. Though he didn’t look over at him or speak, Horatio knew that he was listening hard. “I was embarrassed in the court of law because of you and your _team_!” She spat out the last word and looked away, her eyes glittering.

“I remember everything a little differently,” Horatio said coldly. “I recall that one of your DNA analysts had contaminated the only sample of genetic material we had from the victim. It wasn’t my lab that messed up the investigation but was the FBI’s forensic laboratory...”

“Don’t you have a go at Boa Vista, Horatio! She felt devastated by the consequences of her mistake and ensured that she never made that kind of error again. As a matter of fact, she is one of the leading forensic scientists in her field now.”

“The case being thrown out by the judge was what got Elizabeth White murdered.” Horatio continued on as though there had been no interruption. “We couldn’t work together before, and we can barely be in the same room together without arguing years later.”

There was a nasty silence. They glared at each other across the room.

It was Horatio that finally broke the silence. He gazed intently at the FBI agent in front of him, his eyes seeking hers but she refused to make eye contact.

“I need you to tell me everything that you know about this man and his family.”

“Fine, Horatio. We can do it later when I have everything put together in a file for you.”

He nodded grimly and stepped out of the way as she marched past him and down the stairs. The remaining FBI agent looked around him in surprise and quickly got back to work. His ears reddening as he did so. There was an awkward silence as Horatio watched the man vigorously rub at a spot on the wall, and the stiff movements of a man that knew he was being watched.

“Have you looked around the room yet?” Horatio asked him as he stepped over the threshold of the doorway to blink around at the sudden brightness of the bedroom. The peach colour on the walls seemed rather sickening now that he had stepped into the room.

“Not yet, but I think that waiting for one of your guys would be better than doing this job on my own,” the man said cheerfully. “Besides, I am a little limited with what I could do at crime scenes. I only lift fingerprints and can’t touch anything but hard surfaces and walls.”

Horatio felt a smile tug at his lips. “My CSIs are busy at the moment with different tasks. I can join you in here instead if you’d like.”

The man looked over at him and nodded. “Sure thing, Lieutenant. Despite the fact that this room may look small to you, I can use all the help I can get.”

* * *

 

An hour later and Horatio had over fifty evidence bags that had been filled with samples and items from around the room. The small garbage can beside the bed had been emptied out and its contents separated and placed into their own bags. A clear, sticky substance that had been found on one of the bedside tables had been documented and a few samples were taken and stuffed into their own collection tube. He ensured that he had each tube labelled carefully with a thick black sharpie before he placed them in a bag. He removed the blankets and sheets from the bed and had them placed into large brown bags that were then folded down, taped and labelled.

There had been four dark stains upon the mattress. Horatio painstakingly took pictures before he cut each of the stains out using a sharp knife and a pair of scissors. A cursory look in the armoire found a keepsake box made of cherry wood hidden amongst a pile of clothes that had fallen from their hangers. He had just finished labelling the bag with which the box now inhabited when Calleigh walked in through the door.

She watched him in silence from the doorway until he had placed the box carefully into an empty brown bag. There was an air of frustration about Calleigh that overwhelmed the room’s atmosphere not long after she had arrived.

“I’ve been trying to find the weapon used for such high velocity blood spatter for hours now, Horatio,” she said in answer to Horatio asking about the progress she had made. “I’ve collected nearly everything that could be used as a weapon as a result. Everything from baseball bats to butcher knives. Though, I would say that the weapon we are looking for is quite possibly a knife or at the very least a pair of scissors.”

He looked up at her, his interest suddenly piqued. “How can you tell that it is a knife that we’re looking for? High velocity blood spatter can mean that anything blunt or sharp could be the weapon of choice here.”

Calleigh breathed in sharply, her hands hitting her thighs in an evident display of frustration. “There was a peculiar imprint upon the child’s bed sheets. I’ve measured and documented it thoroughly. It looks like the tip of a knife or half of a pair of scissors. However, there were very strange indentations that Ryan and I discovered in the master bedroom. They were upon the right side of the bed and were upon the floor with a long line of blood that went up the side of the blanket.”

Horatio’s blood chilled when he heard what Calleigh had found. Before he could say anything however, she had begun to speak again.

“Going off of measurements and the length of the blood patterns in the master bedroom, I’ve bagged and tagged all the axes and hatchets that I could find in the home and garage.” Calleigh studied his face, her gloved hands in the pockets of her black pants. “I am going to take my search outside to see if I can find anything else of interest.” She turned to leave but looked back at Horatio before she took a step out. “I’d be careful on the stairs if I were you. The FBI technicians are helping Ryan with the collection of blood evidence. They said it would take a few hours at most before they were finished.”

Calleigh disappeared out of the room. Horatio could hear the sound of her going down the stairs, saying a quick apology to the technicians that had no doubt stopped their work to glare at her as she passed. He sighed before he got back to work, shoving his hand into a darkened space between the open bottom area of the armoire and the floor. His hand brushed over something and pushed it back. A frown upon his face, he flattened himself onto the floor and shone a flashlight underneath to reveal what exactly he had touched, the beam of light fell on a collection of three books that appeared to be journals.

He grabbed for a few clear plastic bags and managed to open one blindly before he reached under the armoire to remove the books. He straightened up as he picked up the first one and dropped it into the bag, sealing it immediately with tape, and had it labelled before he placed it gently on top of the keepsake box. He repeated the steps with the two remaining journals and stood up to his feet, his knees cracking loudly as he did so.

Horatio had searched every inch of the room before but quickly looked through it again to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He picked up the bags of evidence that he had recovered and quickly left the room, throwing a quick look in the direction of the child’s bedroom before he went down the stairs. The FBI technicians upon the staircase threw him a dirty look as he carefully made his way past them and outside so that he could place his evidence into his hummer.

Before he had the chance to go back inside to check out the other rooms of the house, Eric had rounded the corner with a clipboard in hand and a frown upon his face. The moment that he found Horatio, a look of intense relief had taken over his features.

“Calleigh told me that you were still inside the house,” he said as he approached him. “I am happy that I found you outside. I heard that the Greenfield woman is still inside there.” He threw a dirty look in the direction of the doorway and motioned Horatio to accompany him to the backyard with a sharp nod of his head.

“What have you found, Eric?”

“Something that is of great interest, Horatio,” Eric answered curtly. He gazed down at the clipboard as he walked quickly towards an ornate black iron gate that stood open with three police officers standing guard near it. He didn’t speak again until he had ushered Horatio through the gate and had consulted the piece of paper in front of him three more times before finally looking up.

“I measured the length and width of the property and discovered a few things that were out of place. The fence out back in your typical wooden structure that is high enough to give the appropriate privacy. However, it is of a cheap quality that falls apart easily. The back gate was damaged but I can’t determine if it was natural or manmade.” Eric paused here and consulted his notes again. He had slowed down his pace so that Horatio, unprepared for the sudden change nearly walked right into him. “I discovered a set of footwear impressions on the outside of the back gate and noticed significant damage to plants that makes me suspect that they were trampled.”

Horatio thought about this fresh information. The footwear impressions could mean nothing depending upon the evidence that was gathered. There could be a logical explanation for such a discovery. After all, most people wore shoes outside when they were going out and about their own property. The trampling that Eric had found could also be innocent and as such could be easily dismissed in the court of law. The Jorgensons did have a two year old child that most likely didn’t know the difference between an area that she could play in and a flowerbed that could be destroyed by accident. Even without the child, the evidence found wouldn’t be sufficient enough to hold up in the court of law. The judge would throw it out on the grounds that careless homeowners were the result of such damage in their own backyard.

Eric made a note on the piece of paper that he had in front of him, sighed deeply and shook his head. The young Cuban looked suddenly troubled as he placed the clipboard under one arm and continued to lead Horatio further down the side of the house.

Horatio looked sideways at him and frowned. He had known Eric for a long time and was always wary whenever the young man fell silent like this. It usually meant that far more troubling news was to follow.

“That wasn’t all that you found was it, Eric?” Horatio murmured as he shakily put a hand through his hair.

Whether Eric heard him or not was a complete mystery to Horatio, though there was a distinct tightening of his lips that was usually reserved for wanting to get something over with and quickly. Instead he pulled open another gate, walked through it and waited for his boss to follow.

Horatio blinked. He had known that the private properties of Coconut Grove had extravagantly designed gardens, but the one that the Jorgensons had clearly worked hard on was one of the most elaborate gardens that he had ever seen in Miami. The large property had many different varieties of roses, and though he was no expert, he knew that most were of the climbing species that preferred a trellis or some other climbing structure in order to thrive. It appeared as though construction for such intricate arches and wooden pillars was still under way. Despite the fact that it had yet to be completed, the roses planted near to it had already been tied to their posts and had made their steady climb to the top.

It seemed as though there was a race to see which one could get to the highest part of their structure. Horatio could see a pretty light pink Boursault bush competing with a magnificent cream coloured Delbard that had light peach undertones upon its delicate petals. An orange rose shrub was elegantly wrapped around one of the columns as far away from the others as it could possibly be, and with good reason, its vine like tendrils appeared to be strangling another plant that had brilliant red flowers that was unlucky enough to have grown away from its archway. From where he stood, he could see that an orange blossom was beginning to emerge where the vine had stuck itself.

He took his gaze away from the roses and focused instead on the rest of the garden. A young palm tree happily grew in the centre of a small island surrounded by grey bricks that appeared reminiscent of the stepping stones found in a shallow river. There were two small orange trees that had been planted in square containers that stood on either side of a cobblestoned path that winded its way through the garden. There were even more varieties of flowers to be found here, not just fragrant roses. Colourful Celosia plumosas had been planted with dark purple, pink and white flowers. The vile stench of marigolds reached Horatio’s nostrils before he could see the orange flowers; they seemed to protect a small portion of a vegetable garden. As he passed by, he could see the dark purple of aubergine and some red chili peppers. There was a large trellis fence that had a monster sized pea plant that had taken up space by the wooden fence. It was here that Eric stopped and waited for him to catch up.

Horatio had to carefully step over tall bell pepper plants, nearly upsetting the nearly ripe fruit that sat in the sun. He nearly got snagged by a bushy tomato plant that had grown against its cage and had its fuzzy leaves poking out of its cage. There was a row of large cabbages that he nearly tripped over, and had just stepped over them when he realised that he had nearly trampled a potato plant. He looked over at Eric bemusedly when he realised that the latter was trying to not to laugh.

By the time that he had finally managed to get over to Eric, an annoyed expression written all over his face, the young Cuban had managed to contain himself.

“I found the blade of a bloody axe here,” Eric said grimly as he crouched down and lifted up some of the bottom leaves from the pea plant to show Horatio. “Calleigh collected it not too long after I discovered it. She said that she was going to look around for more weapons before she headed back to the lab.” He added apologetically.

Horatio looked round at him in surprise before he too crouched down so that he could get a better look. He could see the imprint of something large in the dirt, and knew what it meant. He suddenly felt sick to his stomach at the realisation.

“There was evidence of an axe being used in the upstairs master bed,” he said softly. He fought the urge to vomit at these words and instead focused his attention on a green peapod. The colour of the plant suddenly looked off to him, as though the sun had brightened up the foliage so that it appeared almost lime instead of dark green. “The attacker must have known the gardens. Why else would the blade of that axe be thrown into an area where it most likely wouldn’t have been found if we didn’t know what we were doing?”

Eric made a noise that was between a snarl and a snort, though his mouth was drawn in such a tight line that it came as a surprise that he could even make such a noise.

“Probably thought that he could outsmart us by doing something like this. I haven’t been able to find the handle of the axe, but I don’t think that we will be able to find it. There is evidence of a fire that had been lit recently in the stone fire pit.”

Horatio gave him a sideways look. Eric continued on sullenly.

“I haven’t been able to find much in the ashes. However, I did manage to pull out a few items that can be examined further at the lab. Though I have to say that that wasn’t everything that I found out here.” Eric pulled himself heavily to his feet and trudged off down a small stone path of the garden that led off back into the main property. Horatio followed quickly after him, finding that his CSI’s behaviour was rather strange.

They rushed past a children’s play area where a small colourful slide, a caterpillar teeter-totter and a large turtle sandbox stood closely together. A child’s playhouse that appeared handmade stood in the shade of an ancient tree whose bark was rough and jagged. Its sides had been painted a dark shade of burgundy and had a slated black roof with white window trimmings. Horatio could see a small bench that had been pushed against the wall and a table that had been set up for a tea party. He winced inwardly at such an innocent scene and hurried past as though there was a fire that needed to be put out.

Eric led him to the back fence and gate and crouched down onto the ground. One of his gloved hands touched the dirt gingerly as Horatio joined him, looking on in curiosity.

“Here is the footwear evidence.” Eric squinted up at him. “Or at least one of the patterns I was able to find.” He pointed in the direction of a row of freshly planted flowers. “There’s where the trampled flowers were found and the imprints match the ones that were discovered here and out the gate.”

Horatio carefully stepped towards the gate, opened it slowly and peered out. A wide grassy patch of land separated this row of houses from the next. Horatio could definitely see areas where the grass had been stepped on and discovered that despite all appearances that there actually was a footpath that led out of the property and down to a road.

Eric watched him carefully, a frown upon his face.

“I’ve measured the foot impressions. If they match up to what I find in the house, then there is a possibility that this evidence will be irrelevant in the eyes of a judge.”

“Nothing is irrelevant, Eric,” Horatio said suddenly. His eyes glued on the light brown gate that seemed oddly distorted the more he looked at it. “No matter what the evidence matches up to there is always relevance to it until it is discounted as evidence. What else have you found?”

Eric got back up to his feet and went directly to the gate. “I found significant damage to the gate. It is bent in areas and the latch has been destroyed. Anything could have caused this, and since it is such a cheap quality of wood, it could have buckled not long after it was put up.”

“That might be true, Eric, but I highly doubt that a gate such as this could sustain such strange indentations to it,” Horatio said as he peered more closely at the damage. “Look here for example, it looks like somebody kicked it in and the fact that it doesn’t close or latch properly is evident of that fact, isn’t it?”

Eric nodded glumly. “I thought that as well, but remember what happened the last time I made such assumptions? It got the evidence thrown out. I’ll have to wait until I get this gate back to the lab so I can know for sure what caused all this damage.”

“I don’t think that you should focus on your past failings, Eric. You’re a great CSI...”

“I nearly lost my job, H.” Eric looked away, blinking hard. “I don’t want to lose this job. It is nearly impossible for a CSI to find another one if they are fired for mistakes on the job. I am not a forensic scientist!”

Eric’s worries about his job were a sad reality for every CSI no matter how long they had been at it, or how efficient they were at their duties. One lethal mistake to a criminal investigation and they were replaced by somebody far more effective. It was true that they weren’t forensic scientists, but they had the same training in the lab as one and were considered forensic experts. Yet, those that worked in forensics were civilian scientists and didn’t face such dire consequences if they made any errors in the lab.

He still believed that Eric was overreacting. What had happened in the court of law wasn’t so much a mistake as it had been a dangerous assumption. He had done his job correctly and discovered that the evidence did not line up with what it had first looked like. Though to give the young CSI some credence to his fear of mistake, Judge Ratner had torn apart the evidence and allowed a serial rapist back out on the street. Horatio’s mouth curled into a snarl at the memory of that day. It had taken a lot of effort for him to remain in his seat and not attempt murder himself.

Horatio shook himself mentally and forced himself to return to the present. He noticed that Eric still looked angry with himself over his past mistake, and tried to think of something to say that would make him snap out of it. His mind was oddly blank, however, and Horatio wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

“Have you found anything else?” he finally asked lamely.

His question finally jolted Eric out of his deep reverie. He watched as he looked quickly down at the clipboard to read his notes.

“Other than the blade of the axe, the prints and the gate, I’ve found nothing. Do you want me to look around again?”

Horatio looked around the property and bit his lip. It was a very large yard, and had many hiding places that needed to be checked out. However, he was certain that Eric had already looked around and collected as much evidence as he could find given the circumstances. He knew that Natalie Greenfield would want the backyard searched as well by the Bureau’s own forensic investigators. Despite the fact that he knew the FBI agent was only doing her job by being thorough, he couldn’t help but scowl at the fact that she didn’t seem to trust a state funded laboratory.

He realised that Eric was waiting for an answer, and quickly looked over the backyard once again. “If you feel that you’ve missed anything, then you can go back to what you were doing. However, if you’re finished out here, then I would like you to go to the house and process the rooms downstairs.”

“What about the gate? Do you want me to take it now or wait until the FBI sees it?”

Horatio knew that Eric was referring to Greenfield by the way he crinkled his nose in disgust, and tried hard to restrain the smile that he felt tug at his lips. After a few moments of thought, he turned around towards the house.

“Let’s run it by Agent Greenfield first,” he said gently as he led the way to a stone walkway that wound its way to a small fountain that mimicked a waterfall. “After all, she _is_ in charge of the crime scene. We wouldn’t want her to interrupt the processing of evidence for not informing her that we removed it from the scene without her permission.”

As Horatio walked past the fountain, the ghostly laughter of a young child echoed loudly in his ears.

**Author's Note:**

> Natalie Greenfield is a character that is more prominent in the Natalie Greenfield series that I created a few years ago. There were originally six or seven novels that focused on this character and her exploits first within the Crime Lab and later as a FBI agent. The latter proved to be more successful than what I had written before, but due to the nature and themes of the series, I chose to have them removed and published elsewhere. I hope to have a few of those stories reintroduced to this site, but wish to focus on this one particular story for the time being.
> 
> To be honest here, Greenfield wasn't supposed to be a character within this story at all. However, as I needed an FBI agent and quickly, I chose to use a character that I had already developed. Despite the fact that she plays such a prominent role in the series that is attributed to her, she will not overwhelm this particular story.


End file.
